


Connections

by CharlyLee



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Aobajousai, Bokuaka - Freeform, Canon, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Canon Universe, Datekougyou | Date Tech, Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6, FutaKoga friendship/mentorship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Koganegawa being cute, KuroKen - Freeform, M/M, OiHana friendship, Poverty & other social justice issues, Pre-Canon, Pride, Sacrifice, Self-Reflection, SemiTen friendship, ShiraUshi friendship/mentorship, Shiratorizawa, Spiker-Setter Week 2020, Sports, Struggle, Teen and Up, Training Camp, daisuga - Freeform, him also a bit stupid, space, swap, they're both big dumb idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26250595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlyLee/pseuds/CharlyLee
Summary: My Spiker-Setter Week 2020 contributions ~Stories are generally rated Gen, but some might drift a little more towards TeenUp - no Mature or Explicit content though! Both canon-compliant and divergent.Day 1:Struggle (DaiSuga)Day 2:Swap (Watari & Aoba Johsai)Day 3:Separation (Oikawa & Hanamaki)Day 4:Space (BokuAka & KuroKen)Please consult the single chapter descriptions for their individual contents.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Kudos: 11
Collections: Haikyuu: Spiker-Setter Week





	1. What makes the difference (DaiSuga)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome!  
> Before you read I'd like to note that English is not my native language and while I try to have everything checked over, some spelling and grammar mistakes might slip through - feel free to point them out in the comments, I am always happy to improve!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** Struggle  
>  **Focus:** DaiSuga  
>  **Word Count:** 2.640  
>   
>  _They practise for weeks and yet their new synchronized attack just won't work. Sugawara is starting to doubt and works himself to the bone in order to figure out what he is missing._

Sugawara doesn’t know _how often_ he has already looked at it. It could be the fourth time he hits the circular _‘replay’_ icon in the middle of the screen or the four thousandths.

It has all blurred together, the players running, the field, the positions, the movements and to be entirely honest, he can just barely keep his eyes open by now. The night air in Saitama is pretty mild and his black club-jacket is more than sufficient to keep him comfortable.

Rubbing his bleary eyes, he takes a deep breath and - _barely keeps back a loud scream._

Daichi is just fast enough to put a hand over his mouth before Suga can wake up the entire training camp. But in his defence, if a dark figure appears by your side out of nowhere in the middle of the night, then you have the right to have a little scare!

 _“Just me”,_ his partner mumbles and once he is certain that he really won’t scream, he takes his hand away from his mouth, instead grabbing Suga’s phone from his propped up knees. The ashen-haired releases a stuttering breath and an accusatory glare.

 _“Dai!”,_ he wheezes, clutching his chest. 

“Nice night”, the other smirks as he sinks down by his side, their backs leaning against the school building. It was a quiet spot, providing shelter from the wind and curious onlookers which they had found on their search for a peaceful cuddle a few days ago.

“Don’t _‘Nice night’_ me!”, Suga pouts. “I was actually _scared_ for a second!”

 _“Sorry”,_ in the shadows of the night Daichi’s face is only half visible, but he looks sincere… _no,_ it is something beyond that!

For a few moments more, they sit in silence, Suga with his knees still drawn to his chest and Daichi with one leg stretched out, his arm loosely dangling over the one he has propped up, his gaze drifting somewhere into the greyish, light-polluted, star meagre sky. That is one of the things Suga misses most about the Miyagi country-side - being able to look up into the sky to see the myriads of stars and nebulas unfold above him.

 _“What’s wrong?”,_ he asks carefully. “Did Kageyama and Hinata sleep-fight again?”

 _“No”,_ Daichi breathes out. His boyfriend is not a man of long and elaborate sentences, but this is _scarce,_ even for him. And he is still holding Suga’s phone.

The ashen-haired furrows his brows, his tired brain undecided on what might be the reason for the other’s silence. _Option one,_ he wants Suga’s attention for some cuddles. _Option two,_ he is sleepwalking and unaware of what he is doing. _Option three,_ something is really bugging him. The only way to narrow it down is going along with it. Suga leans to the side, trying to snatch the phone back, but the other pulls his hand away, keeping it out of reach, and a furrow appears on his forehead. Okay, that is definitely a three.

 _“Dai?”,_ he tries again, more carefully. _“Talk to me”_

“This _has_ to stop”

 _“What?”,_ Suga furrows his brows. A bit more context would be nice.

 _“This”,_ Daichi makes a vague handwave around them. “I… I can’t watch how you torture yourself anymore!”

“I… _what now?”,_ Suga reels back a little. 

“When was the last time you actually slept through the night?”, the other still doesn’t look at him and Suga starts to pout in defiance.

“I’m _fine,_ okay? Can I get my phone back now or did I miss the memo where you became my father? Because I sure hope you’re aware that me calling you _‘daddy’_ last week was a joke!”, he raises his eyebrows.

“Answer my question”

 _“I don’t know!?”,_ Suga sighs. “Why is that so important to you? I’m doing alright!”

“No, _you are not_ and everyone is noticing - you are spacing out during games, you yawn all the time and if you have looked into a mirror just once during the last two days, you really can’t have missed the rings under your eyes!”, now Daichi looks at him and Suga realizes he is honestly concerned.

He looks down at his hands, then he wraps them around his knees, fingers slightly digging into his bare calves.

“Everyone is making progress”, he mumbles. _“Only I’m not._ I just… _I finally want to get this right!”_

It’s a bit embarrassing to say it out loud and he hides his face in his knees, but he knows that Daichi won’t let it go until he tells him, so he just gets it over with.

“I can’t sleep anyway, so can you _please_ just let me watch the videos again?”

“And what are you hoping to accomplish if you keep doing that? You _do_ remember that Coach Ukai said, we just gotta try it now!?”

“And we’ve been trying _for weeks_ but it’s _still_ not working, Dai. When you play with Kageyama then everything’s good, but when _we_ train then nothing works, so please don’t pretend like the problem isn’t me, because _it is!_ If I keep looking at reference material, maybe I’ll notice what I’m doing wrong”, Sugawara bites his lip, trying to convince himself more than Daichi, that that is ever going to happen.

“You as a setter should know that isn’t _remotely_ the same!”, Daichi huffs out as if affronted. “If the synchronised attack was just another _ordinary_ spike, then we wouldn’t need to practice is so much, _would we?”_

Oh, how Suga hates it when the dark-haired uses his captain-voice on him! Because it just makes him feel so soft and warm and like everything will be fine, even though he has already decided he wants to mope a bit.

“Let me mope in peace, _will you?”,_ he pouts sourly and glances up at his partner.

 _“Never”,_ and the other leans over, running his fingers gently over Suga’s back. 

It feels good. _Too good,_ especially to his worn-out body, tired and sore after training the whole day and stiff from sitting on the hard ground for hours every night, watching the videos of professional teams performing synchronized attacks, desperately searching for the one clue that will make this work, that will tell him the timing, that will just… _change things!_

He releases a stifled little yawn, head falling back down on his knees.

“You are _not_ Kageyama”, Daichi starts to explain.

 _“Newsflash”,_ Suga rolls his eyes.

“Will you let me _finish?”_

 _“No,_ don’t really feel like it”

Even though his eyes are closed, he can still feel Daichi grimace and his lips curl in triumph.

“You are not Kageyama!”, the other repeats with more strength in his voice and Suga feels him straightening up at his side, ready for one of his paternal speeches. “And this strategy is not just about getting the ball to a spiker, it’s about _moving as a unit”,_ he clears his throat. “I overheard Tanaka and Ennoshita complaining about their own timing too and Narita said that he feels he isn’t active enough either. Everybody is struggling a bit with this - but _you_ get in over your head”

Suga sighs… _that was to be expected._

 _“Easy for you to say”,_ he mumbles with a lot more bitterness than he intended and he knows Daichi is hurt by his comment, because his hand stills on Suga’s back.

Then he takes it away entirely and suddenly Suga feels _very_ cold, a shiver running down his spine and he bites his lip hard. _‘Great… just… fucking great, Koshi!’,_ he scolds himself for his insensible words.

 _“Here”,_ Daichi rustles in his pocket and holds a piece of paper to him.

“Are you _firing_ me?”, Suga jokes dryly, apparently not having learned his lesson in when to keep his tongue under control, after all!

“Just _take_ it”, the dark-haired sighs languidly. “And quit joking! As a captain, you are my greatest failure - I wouldn’t manage to get rid of you, _even if I tried”_

 _“Wow”,_ Suga huffs out, uncertain if he should feel amused, proud or insulted, but after a hesitant second, he takes the note.

The thin, lined paper is worn, slightly yellowed, has a few stains on it, that look and, _upon closer inspection,_ smell suspiciously like the pitch-black espresso Daichi likes to drink in the evening. The edges are roughed up and lacerated in several places. 

“But _as a boyfriend”,_ Daichi clears his throat, voice having lost confidence in favour of a subtle shyness, “it’s one of the things I like most about you! That you never give up, even if you should a-”

 _“Hold on,_ is that a hint that I should _quit_ volleyball!?”, Suga sits up in affront. “You _are_ firing me!”

 _“What?”,_ Daichi flinches, “No, that… _alright,_ that wasn’t phrased well”, he sighs and scratches the back of his head, now definitely fighting to keep the rest of his composure. “What I meant is that you’re a fighter and that you inspire me… and now open the damn note, because the rest won’t make any sense if you don’t and I’ve already embarrassed myself enough, _okay?”_

Suga pouts, slightly suspicious of the note in his hands. He shoots Daichi another glance, but his boyfriend is pointedly looking back into the sky.

Carefully he begins to unfold the paper, that has been bend so many times over the years, that the four quarters only seem to hang onto each other by sheer coincidence.

In the dim light of the night, he has to squint his eyes in order to decipher the words and it takes him long, confusing seconds until he realizes he can’t read anything because there is nothing written in the first place.

Row after row the paper is littered with small lines in packs of four, a fifth running through them diagonally, small dates and abbreviations for weekdays scrawled above every line. It’s a tally list and _not just any!_

“You _kept_ that!?”, Suga’s voice is more a whisper than genuine speech, his throat closed off with disbelief.

 _“Why shouldn’t I?_ It’s the reason we started dating”, Daichi chuckles.

“No, it’s _evidence_ that our super cute getting-together story about sharing a milkshake and going to the cinema together is _bullshit_ from _start to finish_ because the truth is I kept a tally of how often you fell on your ass when practising receives during our first year, which resulted in us talking about butts so long we eventually started making out in the locker room!”, Suga duns him, but his serious tone of voice is just a facade and a desperate attempt at plastering over the guilty little feeling that churns in his stomach. They were so enthusiastic back then, training every day until _deep_ into the night - the three of them together, then Tanaka and Nishinoya, Ennoshita, Narita and Kinoshita and now the first-years. There were always people around who he could help with kind words, encouragement and advice and that made him feel valuable! But now he is at the end with his wisdom - he is useless and letting them all down…. _a better bottle-holder,_ that is what he is!

“We had to work hard before, Suga and you were always the frontrunner for optimism. I don’t think you know how much that means to me and Asahi - we never would have made it if you wouldn’t have been there to encourage us and that’s why I’m really scared right now”, Daichi lets out a long breath and his shoulders sag a bit. “You always work _twice_ as hard as everyone else, _despite_ not having a starting position and that’s an inspiration for the whole team! So if you start giving up, then what’s the point in anything anymore?”

“I’m _not_ giving up - I just need to figure things out”, the words sound hollow and like they come from very far away.

“Then let me help. Let us help!”, Daichi changes his seat so that he is facing him sideways now instead of sitting by his side. “You’ve given so much to us. Let _us_ give something back! If we just sit _together_ and think it through, then we can make this work together!”

 _“No_ \- I don’t want to waste practice time with this”, Suga bites his lip. He is the setter, this is _his job._ “I can’t always have other people do things for me, Dai! I want to contribute to the team on my own!”

His boyfriend frowns. “You know, _last time I checked_ volleyball was a team sport, so you are not wasting practice time and we are not doing anything _for_ you - we are doing it _with_ you! Also, if anything, what we are doing now is a waste, because we are not getting anywhere - sitting down and looking at the videos together can’t hurt, can it? A dozen eyes see more than two and I can ask Coach Ukai to lend us his tablet again so we have a bigger screen”

Suga drops his head back on his knees, as he hugs his legs tightly.

Not just captain-voice but also _reasonable_ captain-voice. He _does_ hate it so much and yet it reminds him of everything they have.

His fingers run over the worn paper. They used to keep tallies for _everything._ Suga tossing the ball in directions it was absolutely not supposed to go, Asahi slamming the ball directly into the net and Daichi falling over, landing on his ass when receiving a spike without a solid stance. They kept them because they had no one else to do it for them and watching the number of lines slowly decrease was the only form of encouragement they received. No coach, no real resources, _just them,_ Suga’s phone and a cooling pack for whenever someone got hit in the face.

A smile works it’s way onto his face. Those were simpler times. Sometimes he misses them. Yeah _sometimes…_ and then he enters a gym with a dozen people yelling, Hinata stuck on the ceiling, Noya climbing Asahi’s shoulders, Kageyama and Tsukishima fighting, Yamaguchi listening to Tanaka starry-eyed, Ennoshita rolling his eyes in mild amusement and equal annoyance and Narita and Kinoshita having their fun watching it all unfold until Daichi starts glaring everyone into order. Shimizu would keep the tally, Yachi handing out water bottles, Mr Takeda clapping in amazement at every well-performed spike and Coach Ukai nodding pleased with himself until someone managed to mess it up and everyone would go back to screaming, thus repeating the cycle over and over again. Suga wouldn’t want to miss that _for the world._ They had to struggle so much and he doesn’t wish that to any of his underclassmen.

So who is he to be this selfish and think he could _possibly_ tame that chaos?

 _“Kay”,_ he mumbles and as if that is its cue, a yawn, he can’t stifle anymore, works its way over his lips.

Daichi exhales deeply and in relief.

 _“Finally,_ you _stubborn_ idiot!”, he sighs. “I was almost thinking you’d make me bust out the big cannon!”

_“The big cannon?”_

_“Waking Asahi”_

_“Oh Lord”,_ he giggles.

Daichi shifts again and Suga just lets himself drop against his chest, to be wrapped in by those juicy biceps, forearms red and raw from receiving so many balls all day long. Gently he runs his fingers over the stressed skin.

“I have some lotion”, he mumbles, words slurred together from exhaustion.

“A kiss would be enough”

Suga can’t help a snort, but he never the less bends down to press his lips against Daichi’s forearm, only for them to shift around his body and guide him upwards until it’s the other’s which he meets, warm, soft and gentle.

 _Yeah…_ they had to struggle and this wouldn’t be _the last time they did_ either. But at least they could share that struggle with each other and their team.


	2. Purpose (Watari)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** Swap  
>  **Focus:** Watari & Aoba Johsai  
>  **Word Count:** 3.559  
>   
>  _Shinji Watari is not a bad setter, but he is no Oikawa Tooru and in the shadow of a great name and a new friendship the Aoba Johsai First-Garder has to reflect on his pupose in a new team._

Change comes in many shapes. For Watari, it arrives as an envelope containing an invitation to visit Aoba Johsai High School and join the Volleyball Club.

“You have a lot of potential -  _ much of it undiscovered!”, _ Coach Irihata tells him.

And maybe this knowledge, that the Coach  _ himself _ handpicks each of his players for the first squad, is why Watari struggles so much.

He is a good setter,  _ if he may say so himself, _ but  _ this _ is beyond his paygrade.

The brunet boy may only be a second-year but whenever Watari looks at Oikawa, it feels like the room is gravitating towards the older and the court arranges itself according to his will, directed by strength, passion and spirit. Even the third-years, who  _ should _ be in charge, are making way for him.

Watari could read a thousand books on charisma and volleyball and he would not  _ ever _ get anywhere close!

And of course, there is Yahaba, from his own grade. They get along well from the first day on, but  _ still, _ there is a difference between them, that manifests every time they step onto the court.

What the light-haired lacks in the natural aura that makes their upperclassman such a capturing force, he compensates through orderly instructions. Their teammates like him and the spikers seem to follow his lead confidently.

And  _ Watari? _ He needs to focus more on getting his words straight than he does on setting the ball, which _ just won’t end up _ where he wants it!

Every set feels forced and every interaction on the field leaves a bland taste in his mouth.

Now that he reflects on it, the feeling isn’t even unfamiliar. Watari has always drifted with the flow - he is the unrecognisable guy that stands in the shadows. The spotlight makes him uncomfortable. But with his old team in middle school, this had never been much of a problem. 

Watari isn’t an overachiever! He plays volleyball because it’s  _ fun, _ not because he is chasing victory like a wolf a hare. Defeat doesn’t bother him and it had been the same with his old team. Loosing and winning were both nothing more than something to joke over on the bus ride home. They were  _ mediocre _ and they were not disillusioned enough to pretend otherwise.

If they won that was good and if they lost -  _ well then they just lost. _

But now Watari feels as if he is a foreign object, this grand body of Aoba Johsai tries to reject.

He just  _ doesn’t fit in, _ between the ambitious, the fierce and the mighty and his teammates appear to sense it too. Maybe  _ that _ is the reason why the spikers don’t seem to put as much trust in him. Because he doesn’t stand out, he isn’t a leader. 

He knows, no matter what he will do, he can not win,  _ certainly _ not against Oikawa and not against Yahaba  _ either _ and it starts with the fact, he doesn’t even  _ want _ to win! Could he train and work and hope to one day be the light instead of the moth?  _ Certainly, _ but what would be the point other than to satisfy his own, insignificant ego which has  _ never _ been important to him  _ in the first place? _

He buries his face in the heels of his hands, pressing them against his eyeballs.

This… it takes him several long moments to identify the feeling as  _ frustration… _ is not at all  _ like _ him. It’s the precise reason why he doesn’t like unrealistic competitions - he is too modest to give it a fight and yet too thoughtful to just let it slide. He is like an insect, hypnotised by the light and yet weirdly sobered by it.

His brain is just turning in circles around this one damn question: What do  _ they _ have that Watari does not, other than natural talent?

The answer comes to him in the locker room that afternoon.

_ “All I am saying _ is that a total solar eclipse is something  _ special _ and that you are a bourgeois for wanting to watch it on television when it will be happening right outside the window! I even have the glasses and my mom is making popcorn, so all you need to do it swing your stupid butt of the sofa and get over to my house!”, Oikawa scowls at Iwaizumi while aggravatedly waving around a hairbrush. The dark-haired just rolls his eyes, continuing to button-down his shirt.

Watari ties his laces and leaves. No one reacts to his disappearance and why should they!?

But outside his eyes move up to where the sky is painted scarlet and the sun is about to drop below the horizon, colours fading on the icy blue winter sky with every passing heartbeat.

Why  _ is _ an eclipse so special? Watari can look at the sun and Watari can look at the moon. But he  _ can’t _ look directly at an eclipse… 

What does a setter  _ do? _

He aimlessly kicks a pebble on his way to the gym.  _ A setter and a spiker. _

He always thought that the setter should be the sun, bright and shining,  _ a guiding light. _ But if that makes the spiker the moon, then the eclipse would be a  _ bad _ thing and not something special.

So maybe, it has to be the other way round!? The sun is a raw force, but as Watari thinks about it, an uncontrolled one as well. The sun needs the moon to overshadow it and break its light into the miraculous display of perfection that is an eclipse. And both celestial bodies have to be at the exact right angle and the exact right proportions in order to create a perfect ring. It isn’t a question of authority,  _ it’s a question of chemistry. _

The moon  _ is simply a tool _ \- the  _ setter _ is simply a tool, that has to weigh well in the hand of its wielder.

He puts down his water bottle at the side of the gym and takes a deep breath. 

Oh, this makes  _ so _ much more sense, he thinks, scolding himself for being this damn oblivious. 

Oikawa is so strong because he channels the spikers’ strengths and skills in the most efficient way. 

Yahaba is so strong because he takes in the energy, diverts and proportions it at the best possible ratio.

And Watari is close to useless because he just lets it evaporate in the room, uncertain how to handle things. 

He sighs, rubbing over his short-cropped hair, scratching the stubbles. Collecting and analyzing his teammates…  _ gathering their strength… _

“New kid,  _ duck!”, _ someone yells and Watari reacts on instinct.

He throws himself forwards, stray spike missing his shoulder by a hair, catching himself on his palms and hoisting his body back up in one fluid motion.

_ “Yo” _

He looks up, slightly confused. Then he spots the root of the chaos. The other two second-years, Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

_ “Sorry,  _ that should have been mine! One sweet dive, though”, the later whistles, rubbing his palms. “Hey,  _ what position do you play?” _

Watari feels a shiver run down his spine, but he can’t hold it against them - he knows that nobody here thinks twice about him and in all fairness he doesn’t really deserve it anyway, being nothing other than deadweight up until this point.

“Thank you”, he bows his head. “And umn…  _ setter” _

Speaking the word feels much like swallowing a fist full of sand. Bland, scratchy and meaningless.

The two older boys exchange a long look, then Matsukawa looks at him again.

“Wanna set for us?”

_ “What?” _

“Well, Oikawa is always so overly eager and the other Newby has that judgy look, that is giving the muffin man here performance issues”, the curly-haired points at his friend.

“Have you  _ ever _ seen him  _ not _ pout or frown?”, Hanamaki defends himself, “I just don’t want him to get premature wrinkles!”

_ “So?”, _ Matsukawa leans against the net pole. “Can you set for us?”

Watari may never get a better chance to find out if his new theory is just his brain finally fusing and more than intellectual garbage, so he nods and walks over to them after collecting the stray volleyball.

“But umn… you  _ enjoy _ playing with Oikawa-Senpai,  _ don’t you?”, _ he asks.

The two older boys exchange a long look, then Hanamaki bursts into loud laughter, bending over, wheezing his lungs out. Matsukawa is only slightly more subtle but at least has the decency to hide his face in the net pole while cackling like a hyena.

_ “Oikawa”, _ Hanamaki manages out, “Is…  _ hahahahah… _ the biggest”, he bites into his fist to stifle the next vicious chuckling fit, “fucking…  _ pffff… _ nerd  _ on earth” _

Watari feels extraordinarily confused.

“He’s cool”, Matsukawa admits, “He’s so  _ damn cool, _ you can use him to keep your pizza deep frosted”

“And”, Hanamaki chimes back up, “So  _ damn energetic, _ you can roast marshmallows with his temperament”

“So… you  _ like _ playing with him?”, Watari digs deeper as he has no idea how to interpret the new information.

_ “Yeah”,  _ Hanamaki sighs amusedly and slightly breathless, resting his hands on his knees. “Never let him know we said that out loud, though”

“Oikawa’s Oikawa”, Matsukawa shrugs. “It’s never boring with him but he’s also damn demanding and has to stick his nose into everything, so help us to practice in peace just once,  _ kay?” _

Watari finds a small, shy smile of his own appears on his face.

To those two it doesn’t seem to matter much if he isn’t overly talented. Yeah, the specifically invited him because he is not! And the fact someone appreciates his presence still, gives him a little bit of the confidence he has lost to his raging thoughts back.

“What do you want me to do?”, he asks.

“Just gotta toss me one ball after the other and I try to get them past the bean sprout!”, Hanamaki gestures to the basket full of volleyballs at the side of the court.  _ “Easy peasy” _

It turns out to  _ really _ be easy peasy. Hanamaki throws the ball to Watari, who pitches them up in an arch as smoothly as possible from where the strawberry-blond will spike them and Matsukawa tries to block.

Its a monotone task, but Watari finds it has something oddly  _ meditative _ to it - it clears his head, especially once Hanamaki tells him: “Hey,  _ don’t be so tense. _ Just toss ‘em however they come to you, even if the angle gets a bit weird. Spiking from a suboptimal point is good training too”, and pats his shoulder.

They continue for a while until Hanamaki performs an especially shattering spike, that Matsukawa can’t quite catch. Instead, it reflects from his palm and whizzes off to the side only to come right back, smash into the curly-haired’s hip and knock him over with a loud  _ ‘oof’. _

“The  _ hell _ are you aiming?”, Iwaizumi stomps over to them, having spiked the stray ball directly back to them. Probably because it almost hit him, over by the water bottles, just as it had happened to Watari earlier.

“Nice spike”, Hanamki whistles.

_ “Fuck you”, _ Matsukawa groans from the floor, sitting back up. “And what the heck took you so long?”

“Coach wanted to talk”, Oikawa hums, following his friend on the heel.

Watari suddenly feels very small and out of place, especially as the brunet’s eyes come to rest on him and he taps his chin thoughtfully.

“Then I guess  _ you _ must be Watari Shinji”, he snaps his fingers and Watari feels his heart skip a beat in surprise.

_ He can only nod. _ Oikawa knows who he is… okay, can he rule out the possibility something hit him on the head and he is currently  _ hallucinating? _

His gaze instinctively searches for the Coach on the bench, watching his players and he can’t help but feel like the man is directly looking at their group, which chills him to the bone.

He should  _ leave, _ he is not  _ meant _ to be here.

_ “Perfect”, _ Oikawa chirps, clapping his hands. “I want to try out what I told you at lunch and-”

Hanamaki, Matsukawa and Iwaizumi groan loud, as if in agony and in  _ perfect _ unison.

_ “Pfff”, _ Watari can’t keep back the snort surging over his lips.  _ Oops. _

“Let me so some warm-up first”, Iwaizumi rolls his eyes.

“Hey,  _ two against one _ is unfair”, Matsukawa objects patting the dust off his thighs.

“Well you have Watari-San to back you up”, Oikawa makes a dismissive gesture.

_ “What?”, _ Watari asks, feeling as if he missed a very important memo.

“I set, you two spike and the ones Matsun can’t block,  _ you _ receive and send back over to me - some classic back and forth”, the older looks at him, head crooked to the side.

“But  _ umn… _ I…”, Watari swallows, “I’m not sure my receives are  _ that _ good”

“That dive earlier was a pretty damn good start”, Hanamaki points out.

“That was  _ luck”, _ Watari pulls his head in ever so slightly.

“Luck is good enough for us - and if it means we have to collect just two balls less afterwards, it’s still something. Plus the Coach said your receives are already solid, so it can’t be  _ that _ bad”, Iwaizumi shrugs.

_ “Bu-”,  _ Watari doesn’t have time because the dark-haired gives him an encouraging slap square over the back, sending him stumbling over to the other side, where he shoots Matsukawa a panicked look.

The tall boy leans down, checking for the other side of the net where Oikawa is gesturing at his two spikers, then he mumbles: “Kay,  _ listen _ \- Maki has a left drift he can’t get rid off and Iwaizumi likes to spike them steep”

Watari nods, throat closed off tightly.

_ “Good, _ you know the Spider-Man movies?”

He furrows his brows in confusion.  _ What does that have to do with anything? _ But he nods still.

_ “Awesome, _ so you know that move he does when he shoots the web?”, and the other flicks his wrist, middle and ring finger folded down slightly.

_ “Yeah” _

“I think I’ll keep you”, Matsukawa grins, “Anyway, when Oikawa sets for Iwaizumi, he usually makes  _ that _ movement. It looks like he’s loosening his wrist but it’s a sign. If he does it once Iwaizumi is warm, I’ll block the diagonal and you can take it in an easier, straight line,  _ alright?” _

Watari clenches and unclenches his fists, but he nods once more and the other boy grins at him, before straightening back up and drawing position.

Watari moves a few steps back, his eyes once again sliding over to Coach Irihata.  _ ‘The Coach said your receives are already solid.’ _

In middle school, they had to share the gym with the basketball club, who liked to ignore the schedule and overdrew their time almost every day. But the volleyball club wasn’t all that bothered by it. They’d just get some balls that were suited for outside, pitch and bump them against the side of the building, performing various tricks like pitching them in zig-zags and other patterns and bet treats from the vending machine on who would last the longest or could do the most complicated figures. Watari has a hand for the ball and tended to win,  _ but the Coach could not possibly know that! _ Also what was with that  _ ‘already’? _ It almost sounded as if he specifically noted his receives… but wasn’t that  _ odd _ for a setter?

“Ready?”, Oikawa asks.

_ “Bring it, _ Britney”, Matsukawa gives a thumbs up and Watari snaps back into reality.

He takes a deep breath and focuses on the opposing side.

Iwaizumi takes a ball out of the basket and throws it to Oikawa, who pitches it up and -

Matsukawa is already warmed up and ready, planting a solid kill block right in front of his dominant hand, shattering the spike down into the floor.

“You ain’t cutting me any slack,  _ aren’t you?”, _ the spiky-haired asks his teammate.

“You know my demands”

“Get lost, eyebrows”, the other rolls his eyes, returning to his starting position.

“That was  _ amazing”, _ Watari whistles.

_ “Nah, _ that wasn’t anything”, Matsukawa makes a floppy hand wave. “Wait until he’s getting warm”, and he points his thumb to the other side of the net.

Indeed, their opponents seem to gain in speed and intensity with every new spike. On the other hand, they aren’t giving up so easily either. Matsukawa’s strategy seems to work out well and Watari starts to feel his heartbeat stronger and happier with every ball that reflects from his forearms, only to sail straight back to where it came from.

It’s like he is actually  _ doing _ something other than trying not to embarrass himself. His actions have a dynamic which he hasn’t felt in a long time and his senses seem heightened.

Watari dives forwards, sending one of Hanamaki’s spikes back up and straight into Oikawa’s expecting fingers. That is where he notices it. It is subtle and easy to miss if one isn’t  _ specifically _ looking for it. While pitching the ball back up the brunet folds in his middle and ring finger, as soon as his hands have left the ball.

Matsukawa notices too, swooshing off to the side, hunching to set his block and Watari moves in his shadow, ready for the straight…  _ only that something seems off. _ Iwaizumi isn’t spiking it straight,  _ he is aiming diagonally, _ despite the fact, there is a block in his way.

Watari’s brain turns upside down.  _ Why? _ What purpo-  _ Block-out! _ This time the attack is further at the side of the field. Iwaizumi is trying to provoke a block-out by purposefully spiking into the block, hoping it will deflect into the out.

It’s a solid strategy for a training skirmish such as this one, so Watari should acknowledge that and express his admiration before the next attack…  _ shouldn’t he? _

They aren’t even  _ counting points, _ so what  _ use _ would there be in doing what he is about to do? But his body is moving on instinct, driven by a kind of ambition he didn’t even  _ know _ he has!

He just  _ can’t _ bear it! He  _ sees _ where the ball will come down before his inner eye, he can  _ feel _ the curve it will describe and something inside him just can’t cope with leaving it at that guess - he  _ has _ to  _ know _ if he is right!

Watari lunges past Matsukawa, teeth gritted, stretching his short body as far as he possibly can.

The leather connects with his fist and with overwhelming relief,  _ that his hunch was right and he is not going to fall on his face for absolutely nothing, _ he pulls through, launching the ball back up into the air.

Then his body hits the floor and he lets out a breathless huff, only vaguely noticing in the corner of his vision how Matsukawa and Oikawa both jump to catch the ball and dump it. The middle blocker with his superior height wins, pressing it over his teammates head.

_ “Woo-hoo”, _ he cheers.

“Hey,  _ nice _ reaction!”, Iwaizumi blinks down at Watari, offering out a hand to help him up.

_ “Thank you”, _ he coughs, slightly woozy from the fall, allowing himself to be hurled back up to his feet by the other.

“No wonder the Coach picked you as libero”, the other goes on.

_ “What?”, _ Watari asks before he can hold himself back, but it just bursts over his lips. Okay, he  _ definitely _ missed some very important announcements! Where  _ was _ he?

“Well, you’re the new libero,  _ aren’t you?”, _ Iwaizumi crooks his head to the side, as if that was a fact, written in stone.

“I umn… I’m  _ usually _ a setter”, Watari shakes his head.

“Wouldn’t be the first one to change position and if he didn’t think you have the guts to pull it through, then the Coach wouldn’t have picked you”, the other just shrugs, but Watari feels like he isn’t getting the point.

Or maybe Watari  _ himself _ is the one who doesn’t get it!? After all, he just felt something like belonging and desire for the first time since…  _ ever! _ Why else would he hurl himself to the ground in a game that wasn’t even an  _ actual _ game and just some back and forth tossing to get warm?  _ Why else _ would he feel this overwhelming urge to achieve something?

Watari isn’t a bad setter - but he is no Oikawa and he is no Yahaba. Spikers here don’t seem to trust his lead, though apparently what they  _ do _ trust him with is having their back! 

Watari is a happy guy, who likes to smile and to joke. And despite being a year younger Hanamaki and Matsukawa have been more than willing to include him in their easy banter.

Watari isn’t a moon and he isn’t a sun. But he’s no simple moth  _ either _ and apparently the Coach knew that from the beginning. If only he had told him what his plan was… no, it is probably for the best that Watari discovered this himself, so he can give it his all with and be at it with his entire heart!

“I’ll  _ umn… _ I’ll do my best...  _ as libero!”, _ he nods, straightening his shoulders.

The other gives him a fierce grin.

“Sure hope so, cause we ain’t done here yet”

“Quit charming our Newby -  _ we found him first!”, _ Matsukawa complains, then he offers his hand out to Watari for a low five. “That was top notch though,  _ seriously” _

He slaps the other’s hand with a sly grin.

Yeah, this feels more like a team - more like he  _ belongs! _


	3. Two worse halfs (Oikawa & Hanamaki)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** Separation  
>  **Focus:** Oikawa & Hanamaki  
>  **Word Count:** 1.555  
>   
>  _Hanamaki isn't sure if he believes in fated pairs, but what he definitely believes in is proofing people wrong and rubbing it in their faces afterwards - coincidently so does Oikawa and when they are accused of being useless when separated from Iwaizumi and Matsukawa, they set out to have the most epic day ever... all on their own!_

_“What if,”_ Hanamaki asks slowly, laying on his back, sprawled out over the floor of Oikawa’s room, “we eat Ice Cream but use Doritos instead of spoons?”

It earns him a low grunt from the brunet, whose face is hidden behind the latest issue of _Volleyball Monthly._

“I know,” Takahiro sighs languidly, “I’m _just not creative without Matsun_ and his stupid eyebrows—they usually inspire me, but _you_ are entirely useless! Maybe Kindaichi was right.”

 _“Firstly:_ Hey! _Secondly:_ Just give me another minute! And _thirdly:_ You are giving up too quickly!” the other sighs, sounding strained.

“What _the hell_ are you even doing?” Takahiro asks, eyebrows furrowing.

“I’m taking a personality quiz.”

 _“Ahah—_ what about?”

 _“‘Which Miyagi captain are you’_ and… _alright,_ you need to check this over for me, _I keep getting UshiWaka_ and I am about to file a lawsuit!” Oikawa throws the magazine and a pencil at him.

 _“Should have gone to Shiratorizawa,”_ Hanamaki snorts in amusement, rolling over onto his belly and pulling the open pages closer. 

_“Shut up!”_

While he reads over the questions and answers, Hanamaki wonders _how in hell_ he has ended up taking a _captains personality quiz_ on his day off training.

 _Alright,_ he knows _exactly_ why and he also knows Kindaichi will bleed for it— _or not_ because these first-years are just _so_ darn cute!

Hold on, _no,_ it wasn’t Kindaichi, _it was Kunimi_ who started it… _or_ Yahaba? Stop, _Kyotani!_ No, that _isn’t right either…_ urgh, _Matsun_ is usually the one who keeps track of against who and for what reason Takahiro holds grudges. How does he _do_ that? Hanamaki himself can’t even remember what he had for breakfast.

 _“Well,_ I have the Johzenji kid, which seems _about right,_ so guess you gotta start wearing purple”, he declares and tosses the magazine aside, causing Oikawa to frown. “Hey, _who_ accused us of being useless again?” he asks the brunet, rolling back over.

_“Kindaichi-Chan.”_

Damn it—so he was right the first time! _‘Always trust your instincts, Takahiro!’_

“And Kunimi-Chan, Shigeru-Chan and Mad Dog-Chan.”

“You gotta stop with the _‘Chan’.”—_ ' _Useless instinct!’_

“You wound me, Makki-Chan.”

 _“Aaaaaaaand_ you’re dead to me.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes very audibly as he gets up to retrieve his _Volleyball Monthly._

Meanwhile, Takahiro closes his eyes, brows furrowed as he does his best to collect the memories of the _long-gone past_ that was yesterday afternoon.

Maybe if he narrates it to himself like a TV show that might help?

 _‘The day before.’_ He tries to imagine a camera panning over the Aoba Johsai volleyball gym, huge, white letter indicating a flashback and the most epic voice he knows, which coincidently is Matsun from that one time he had a cold and sounded raspy and deep like Batman, saying out the words with a sense of dread, proclaiming a spectacular reveal that will _finally_ bring sense and structure into the storyline.

**~ ⁄ ~ ⁄ ~**

“I _still_ can’t believe you are cancelling our elaborate, well organized, _totally existing_ plans for tomorrow!” Takahiro mocks.

 _“Get yourself a hobby,”_ Iwaizumi retorts. “Gotta help my granddad move”

“And _your_ sorry excuse?” he turns towards Matsukawa.

 _“Doctor,”_ the curly-haired informs him with his usual flowery language. It’s a linguistical garden that hasn’t been watered in a while and most of the vegetation is dead, _but hey,_ dandelions are still technically flowers, even if they grow on concrete like absolute idiot plants.

 _“Aw,_ baby’s first trip to the gynaecologist,” Takahiro coos unimpressed.

 _“Close,”_ Matsukawa retorts, “My mom wants me to get a blood count and an ECG cause she says I sleep like a deadman and apparently my pulse is like… _not there.”_ He checks over his fingernails leisurely.

“Weak excuse to leave me alone with Oikawa.”

“I _heard_ that!” their captain shouts over.

 _“Good!”_ Hanamaki yells back. “Anyway, where _were_ we?”

Matsukawa points down below them.

 _“I umn...,“_ and Kindaichi, with Hanamaki’s knee in his back, chimes up, “I _think_ we can change sides now.”

“Oops, _sorry,_ totally forgot I was stretching you,” Takahiro admits, taking his weight off his underclassman. _“My bad.”_

The younger sits up with an agonized groan, his back now stretched enough for the next seven weeks. “No problem, at least we don’t have training tomorrow with _you two unsupervised.”_

It’s the look of _subtle horror_ on their turnip head’s face, that informs each and every person in earshot he didn’t actually _intend_ to say these words out loud.

“You wanna go, _twerp?”_ Hanamaki asks and the younger pulls his head in like a groundhog. “And what the hell is that _even_ supposed to _mean?”_ he continues in affront, but the first-year is too scared to answer, so the only response he gets is a shily croaked: _“Nothing.”_

Kunimi, however, seems to have some fucks _which he doesn’t intend to give_ left and mumbles while continuing to sluggishly loosen up his wrists and with Matsun pressing down his knees to stretch the thighs: “It means that Oikawa-Senpai and you are not very reliable once you are separated from Iwaizumi-Senpai and Matsukawa-Senpai.”

“The word you are looking for is _‘useless’,”_ Kyotani growls, marching past them, carrying five volleyballs under his arms.

Hanamaki gasps in affront, Kindaichi shrinking further beneath him.

 _“Tooru!”_ he shouts, “Grab your husband and get your kids under control!”

 _“Shut the fuck up,”_ Iwaizumi snaps.

“Will you _quit yelling_ already!” Oikawa finally takes enough pity on them to walk over and help Iwaizumi with his stretches as he promised to do fifteen minutes ago.

“Your offspring is _betraying_ you,” Takahiro informs him once the brunet is in earshot. “It says you are unreliable.”

 _“It?”_ Kindaichi whispers somewhere between hurt, confusion and _more confusion._

“I said you are _both_ unreliable,” Kunimi corrects him.

 _Kid got balls,_ Takahiro has to admit that.

 _“And useless.”_ Kyotani walks past them again, hands-free, ready to collect more stray volleys.

“Kunimi-Chan, you _wound_ me,” Tooru whines. “Do you not have _trust in your captain?”_

_“No.”_

_“Never.”_ Kyotani again, always just in time to make his comment, _almost as if this was a movie playing in someone’s head._

 _“Ouch,”_ Matsun snickers.

 _“Good choice,”_ Iwaizumi approves.

“You _do_ have a tendency to get sidetracked,” Yahaba joins in, having snatched the last remaining volleyball right under the Mad Dog’s fangs. “I mean, _there is a reason,_ why Iwaizumi-Senpai and Matsukawa are always following you around.”

“And the word you are looking for _now_ is _‘babysitting’,”_ Kyotani adds.

“Watari-Chan, say something about this _too!”_ Tooru looks over his shoulder, glaring at their libero, obviously in the hope of support.

“Aw _hell no!”_ The other returns with a defensive gesture, rolling up the net.

“Traitors _everywhere,”_ their captain hisses.

 _“Yeah_ \- we make a good team!” Hanamaki nods. “A _capable_ team!”

 _“Right,”_ Iwaizumi snorts.

“We can survive on our own, Iwa-Chan!” Tooru calls out, rising to his feet. “No spikes for you anymore, _traitor,_ see how you like that! Makki, _come on,_ we do not need to associate with the disloyal—the two of us can do everything they can do and I bet we can do it _ten times better!”_

 _“Yeah!”_ Hanamaki follows his example.

“Training is over anyway,” Iwaizumi deadpans.

 _“You’re_ over!” Oikawa snaps back, before storming off, Takahiro at his side.

Just before the doors fall closed they hear Iwaizumi proclaim in radiant disbelief: “I can’t believe I’m rid of him… _all these years_ and it would have been so easy the entire time!”

Then they are outside in the cool air of the night and the captain asks: “Was that a good roast?”

 _“We can work on it,”_ Takahiro admits with a shrug and a grin. “But it was a solid start.”

And Oikawa huffs out proudly—then a meteor drops from the sky and Tilda Swinton, riding Godzilla battles Naruto and the Power Rangers with lightsabers.

Or something like that, _his memory isn’t the best,_ okay!

**~ ⁄ ~ ⁄ ~**

“We need an idea for an epic activity that people will talk about for centuries to come and that will inspire future generation to free themselves from the tyranny of smart boyfriends and sassy underclassmen!” Oikawa thinks out loud.

“Did you just implement _we are stupid?”_

 _“Whose side_ are you on?”

 _‘Hm… good question.’—_ “If Tilda Swinton was to ride Godzilla and would fight Naruto and the Power Rangers with lightsabres from Star Wars, _who do you think would win?”_

Oikawa stares at him absolutely deadpan, then he declares in the dryest voice Hanamaki has ever heard: “Alright, _Ice Cream with Dorito’s it is—_ who knows, maybe inspiration will come with the food poisoning.”

**~ ⁄ ~ ⁄ ~**

Iwaizumi crosses his arms, brows furrowed so strongly, they gather at the centre of his forehead like a big, black, zig-zaggy blob.

 _“How,”_ he pinches the bridge of his nose, “did you get banned from Karaoke _for life?”_

Takahiro and Tooru exchange a smug look. 

_“We broke the high score,”_ the latter declares proudly.

 _‘And the scoreboard displaying said high score,’_ the former thinks, but Mr McDad doesn’t need to know that.

 _“Yeah,”_ he adds smugly. “All on our own, _without you,_ just the two of us, _as an amazing team!”_

The dark-haired shakes his head, makes a loose gesture as if he was throwing something away. _“Whatever,_ but from now on we are _separating you two_ since leaving you alone with each other _clearly_ wasn’t a good idea! Matsun, _grab him!”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed my interpretation of today's prompt!  
> If you like my contents, I am always happy about every comment or kudos - If you like to be updated on what I do and my writing, I also appreciate every single follower over on my Tumblr [charlythelee](https://charlythelee.tumblr.com) \- if you'd like to share this work in particular, you can reblog [this post here](https://charlythelee.tumblr.com/post/628640072590393344/connections-spikersetter-week-2020) ;)


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